


Sweet As Honey

by akamine_chan



Series: Honey Badger [1]
Category: due South
Genre: Animal Transformation, Community: ds_c6d_bigbang, Honey Badger, M/M, Podfic Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-04
Updated: 2011-08-04
Packaged: 2017-10-22 05:05:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes life takes you on an unexpected journey that ends up leading you back home.</p><p>An adventure in which Fraser searches for a solution to Ray's predicament, Ray learns how to dig his own burrow and Dief keeps begging for Twinkies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet As Honey

**Author's Note:**

> I was blessed with multiple arts this year, which makes me very, very happy.
> 
> [look_turtles](http://archiveofourown.org/users/look_turtles/profile) created [Honey Badger and Polar Bear](http://archiveofourown.org/works/227347) \- a cover for the story and a lovely sketch of Ray and Fraser in animal forms. [podfic_lover](http://archiveofourown.org/users/podfic_lover/profile) created an amazing [cover](http://archiveofourown.org/works/234881) for the story that includes an awesomely accurate shopping list. She also performed a [podfic trailer](http://archiveofourown.org/works/235063) for the story.
> 
> Thanks muchly to both of these extremely talented artists for their hard work and their creativity.

Fraser wasn't entirely sure how they'd ended up in this situation.

And yet here they were. Two very young men sheltering behind a car, one shakily aiming a gun at them, the other chanting slowly in what sounded like a variation of Tsimshian that Fraser had never heard before.

Ray unholstered his weapon and shouted at the boy to put the gun down, while shaking his head to clear it of some annoyance. Fraser could almost feel a subsonic whine in the air and wondered if that was what was bothering Ray, possibly making him more irritable than usual.

Whatever the sound was, it certainly didn't seem to be helping.

Fraser stepped forward, empty hands open and extended, trying to calm the situation down. "Please, young man, put down your gun. We just have a few questions to ask—" Fraser ducked and Ray scuttled for cover behind a dumpster as the the teen fired the gun wildly at them.

"Fuck." Ray was crouched down, fumbling with his firearm while he tried to cover his ears. "What _is_ that sound?"

"Chanting?" Fraser offered helpfully. He breathed shallowly, trying not to notice the stench of rotting garbage coming from the dumpster. "It sounds a little like a dialect of Tsimshian that is spoken in the northern sections of Annette Island, but I could—"

"Fraser," he hissed. "Not now!"

There was another shot and a loud _ping_ as the bullet ricocheted off a corner of the dumpster. They both instinctively hunched low, but Fraser found himself distracted by the constant low chanting coming from the unarmed youngster.

It seemed to be affecting Ray more strongly, causing him to mutter under his breath. "What the fuck _is_ that noise, Fraser? It feels like it's drilling into my ears—" Whatever the subsonic whine was, it seemed to increase Ray's agitation.

Fraser decided it was time for decisive action. He stood up and walked away from the protective cover of the odoriferous dumpster, hands outstretched and palms up to indicate he was unarmed. He pitched his voice to be low and soothing, trying to inject a measure of calm into what was rapidly degenerating into a desperate situation.

The boys needed to be disarmed before they hurt someone, maybe even themselves. If someone got shot, there would be very little he could do to keep them safe, they would be hauled off to the nearest juvenile detention center to face rather severe criminal charges. The shooting of law enforcement officers never went well.

No good would come of it.

He took another step forward, looking into their scared faces, ignoring the frantically whispered "Fraser!" from behind. The one with the gun held it in two shaking hands, aiming toward space to the left of Fraser. He wasn't particularly worried about getting shot.

The other boy, still chanting, seemed to be holding a glowing ball of light between his hands, something that swirled and danced and pulsed in an odd counter-rhythm to his words. Fraser couldn't look directly at the light; it was bright and his eyes seemed to slip off it when he tried to stare at it.

It was all very strange, but Fraser mentally shrugged away his questions while he carefully took a step closer, still hoping to salvage something productive and useful from the situation.

"Everything is going to be okay," he murmured, still holding his hands out. The gun-wielding boy didn't look convinced, but much to Fraser's relief, he lowered the gun a little.

"Crazy fucking Mountie."

Ray was angry at him; that much was clear from the muttered words. After the situation was resolved, Fraser knew that he would have to apologize once again to Ray for endangering their lives in strange and bizarre ways. Ray would be brusque and would refuse to talk to him for a few days, then Fraser would show up on Ray's doorstep with a pizza and all would be forgiven. Ray would forgive a lot for pizza. Maybe this time he would bring Ray's favorite American beer, as well—

The ball of light suddenly pulsed and grew large, full of glittering lightning. The smell of ozone, bright and sharp, overpowered the stink of garbage and Fraser watched, mesmerized, as the young man _threw_ the shining, swirling sphere of light at him.

"Fraser—"

He didn't even have time to register being pushed out of the way, stumbling to his knees as Ray shoved and was engulfed by the glowing ball of light. For a brief moment, Fraser saw a faint silhouette of Ray before a flash of bluish light blinded him, making his eyes sting and water.

"Ray!" He wiped at his eyes and blinked frantically, trying to get rid of the afterimages that made it difficult to see. Everything was overlaid with a bright glow and blurred by tears. "Ray!"

Blotting his eyes on the sleeve of his uniform, he looked around, frantically trying to find Ray and make sure that there was no danger from the boys, but the boys were gone and so was Ray.

"Ray!" He got to his feet, his stomach knotted in fear. Where was Ray? "Ray! Where are you?"

There was a chittering sound and Fraser looked down, jumping back a little.

"Oh, dear."

Fraser wasn't exactly sure what it was.

It looked strange, about three-quarters of a meter long and about a third of a meter tall. Fraser suspected that it was a member of the badger family, bristle-haired and bicolored, white on top, darker below. It was crouched exactly where Fraser had last seen Ray, and it was wearing Ray's bracelet around its neck like a collar.

"Ray?"

The animal shook its head as if dazed and ponderously got to its feet. A brief glimpse of— Oh. The animal got to _his_ feet. Fraser's face heated and for a moment he was glad Ray wasn't around to tease him.

"Ray?"

The animal looked up at Fraser and made a strange sort of half-growl half-chirp. Something about the animal's coarse fur reminded Fraser strongly of Ray's experimental and mostly upright hair.

Well, there was simply no other explanation for what had happened. Ray had obviously been transformed from his normal hyperkinetic human self to this—this—sturdy badger-like animal.

Fraser took advantage of Ray's rather dazed state to quickly scoop him up and gingerly carry him to the GTO. He carefully placed Ray in the passenger seat and contemplated the seat belt before giving up on the idea. Fraser would just have to be extremely cautious driving them back to the safety of Ray's apartment.

And he was. It wouldn't do to get into an accident after having survived...whatever it was that they had survived.

He was steadfast in ignoring the honking and rude gestures of the impatient drivers who tailgated as they drove across town. He obeyed every stop light, came to a full stop at each stop sign and never drove faster than the posted speed limit.

Ray, even in his new shape, managed to express his disdain for Fraser's strict adherence to traffic laws with a yawn that fully displayed his rather sharp teeth.

"Fine," Fraser huffed. "See if I drive you anywhere ever again."

By the time Fraser pulled into Ray's parking spot, Ray had fallen asleep in the seat. Fraser went around and opened the door, trying not to startle Ray. "Ray, we're home. Time to wake up." Cautiously, Fraser laid a hand on Ray's furry back. Ray's fur was coarse as he'd expected but wasn't unpleasantly prickly like he'd assumed it would be. Nothing like a porcupine's quills.

Ray grumbled sleepily and curled into a tight ball, snoring quietly.

"Okay, Ray, here we go," he said, picking Ray up and cradling him in his arms. He couldn't weigh more than 30 kilograms, which was less than Fraser was expecting. Something about Ray's new body spoke of _density_ to Fraser.

He carefully carried Ray up to the apartment and unlocked the door without dropping Ray, which took a bit of balance and finesse. He was grateful, not for the first time, that Ray had opened his home to Fraser by giving him his own set of keys to the apartment. _Welcome to my kingdom_ , Ray'd said.

Ray was awake and snuffling curiously, waving his paws in a clear request to be let down. Fraser set him down and watched as Ray trundled about the apartment, exploring.

Badger. Fraser was almost sure that Ray was some sort of badger. He looked more like a North American badger _Taxidea taxus_ rather than the more familiar European badger _Meles meles_ , though he was missing the distinctive black and white striping that was characteristic of both of those species.

Ray's new form was four footed, stout and sturdy, with very long claws, and a funny way of trotting around the apartment.

Fraser followed him, just to make sure he didn't manage to get into something he shouldn't. When Fraser and Dief had started to spend more and more of their free time at Ray's domicile, Ray had made the effort to ensure that anything that could possibly hurt Dief was either put away or discarded. _Dief-proofing_ , Ray had said, winking, as he put his stash of chocolate snack cakes up on a high shelf.

After a while, Ray seemed bored with his explorations so Fraser hoisted him up on the couch and sat down cautiously next to him. Fraser needed some time to think about what their next step was going to be. He was a little worried about food; it was getting toward lunchtime and surely Ray would need some sort of sustenance soon. His own stomach rumbled, reminding him that it had been hours since his breakfast of tea and oatmeal.

Ray curled up next to Fraser and yawned widely, which gave Fraser an excellent view of his sharp teeth.

Ray didn't seem to have any real inclination to bite Fraser, for which he was extremely grateful. His teeth looked like they were designed for tearing and the badger jaw was notorious for the ability to lock shut, making removal next to impossible. It was one of the things that gave badgers their fearsome reputation as animals to avoid.

Fraser took the opportunity to study Ray's new form a little more. Maybe it would be possible to deduce what Ray could eat from examining his physical characteristics. Often, one could tell what kind of environment an animal lived in from the body shape and structure.

He leaned over to examine Ray's fur. It was coarse and spiky, white on top, dark and shading toward black on the bottom half of his body. It looked like someone had taken a brush and painted a wide line of white from his forehead to his tail. Cautiously, he ran his hand down Ray's back, feeling the stiffness of the fur between his fingers.

Ray arched under his touch and made a sound halfway between a purr and a growl.

Whatever species Ray was, Fraser was certain he lived in an arid environment, maybe even a desert. His fearsomely long claws were ideal for digging in the dirt, the white fur would reflect the sun and help keep him cool during the heat of the day.

Definitely some kind of desert-dwelling badger, possibly from Asia or Africa. Probably an opportunistic omnivore, hunting and scavenging food of all sorts.

Ray's ears were small, tucked close to his head, probably to keep them from being ripped off in a fight. Combined with his low-to-the-ground build, Ray seemed to be designed to withstand a lot of damage.

Ray rolled over onto his back and Fraser wasn't sure if he wanted his belly scratched or not, but he wasn't willing to take the risk. And—

"Oh, my." Fraser certainly couldn't ignore the fact that Ray's gender hadn't changed when he'd been transformed.

Ray had a _very_ obvious set of external genitals that he seemed to take great pride in showing off. Fraser was tempted, briefly, to make a droll remark; in the end he decided to save it for a more appreciative audience.

There was a strong musky scent that cemented Fraser's suspicions that Ray has been transformed into something from the _Mustelinae_ family—badgers, wolverines, mongeese, skunks, otters and the like.

Fraser pulled his notebook out, searching for the phone number of Jing-Wei, an acquaintance of his who worked at the Lincoln Park Zoo. He called her, explaining the odd situation without going into too many details and certainly not mentioning wholesale transformations of any sort. Just that he had a novel animal on his hands and he needed it identified so he could properly take care of it.

"Oh, yes, Benton, I have a friend whose hobby is the entire _Mustelinae_ family. Mad about 'em; he's a zoology grad student at the University of Chicago. I can have him come down to the zoo, if you'd like. He'd be glad to take a look at your exotic." Jing-Wei's voice was bubbly and Fraser had to smile at her enthusiasm.

"That would be wonderful, Jing-Wei."

"No problem. Let me give him a call and see what we can work out."

Jing-Wei called him back almost immediately. Her friend would be able to meet them in two hours. "Just come around to the employee entrance, Benton. I'll leave your name as usual."

"Thank you so much, Jing-Wei. You have no idea how helpful you've been."

She laughed. "I'm not being totally selfless here, Benton. I'm dying to know what your mystery animal is. I've never seen an animal such as you've described before."

"Well, hopefully we will have some answers."

Fraser thanked Jing-Wei again and hung up the phone.

Now all he needed was to figure out how he was going to transport Ray across town. Carrying him in his arms like a small dog worked to get them back to the apartment but Fraser wasn't so sure about another trip across Chicago like that. Fraser couldn't take the risk of Ray getting loose; the city was a dangerous place and his brain helpfully tried to conjure images of all the terrible things that could happen. He shuddered.

He looked into the closet in hopes of finding some inspiration and he spotted Ray's bowling bag on the floor. The bowling ball itself is long gone; Fraser has yet to coax the details of _that_ particular story out of Ray. When asked Ray had blushed, looked away and mumbled, "I was _drunk_ , Fraser."

But now there was an empty leather-and-vinyl bag, designed to carry a roundish object. Ray, in his new body, could curl up into a roundish shape.

It took a little work to get Ray into the bag; he wasn't exactly set against it but he took some convincing. And Fraser didn't want to push the issue because he wasn't sure how much of _Ray_ was in that small body, how much of Ray's human intelligence was still present.

Ray fit snugly into the bowling bag and with a little more coaxing and twitching of whiskers, Fraser got the bag partially zipped. He didn't want to completely shut Ray in the bag, wanted to give him some access to fresh air and light if he needed it. Ray wanted neither, apparently, as he promptly fell asleep, snoring slightly.

Fraser drove to the Lincoln Park Zoo. As he drove along Lake Shore, he rolled down the window and let the cool breeze blow across his face. The familiar scents of Chicago settled his nerves; after all this time of living here, salt and exhaust, metal and concrete smelled like _home_.

He met Jing-Wei and her graduate student friend in an empty examination room.

Jing-Wei was a seasoned zoo employee, an older woman who was in charge of enrichment programs for mammals. Fraser had met her a few years ago when he'd needed some information about skunk behavior. A Canadian man had come to Chicago with his pet skunk and had worked out a complex but effective scam to divest sweet old ladies out of their money. The skunk had been his unwitting accomplice.

It had taken Fraser and Ray some time and luck to unravel that particular case and Jing-Wei's help had proved invaluable.

Jing-Wei introduced them, starting with Harry-the-grad-student, and ending with "This is my friend Sergeant Benton Fraser, who first came to Chicago..."

Fraser shook Harry's hand, and noticed that Jing-Wei was staring at him, puzzled.

"...on the trail of the killers..."

"Oh, yes!" Fraser blushed a little and recited the rest of the litany. "...of my father, and for reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture, I've remained, attached as liaison with the Canadian Consulate."

Harry looked at him oddly and retrieved his hand from Fraser's grip.

Jing-Wei laughed. "So, Benton, what do you have in the bowling bag? Which, if I may say so, is an interesting way to transport animals."

Fraser shrugged, a fairly recent habit that he blamed Ray for. His grandmother, rest her soul, would have had strong words about his shrugging. He hefted the bag up onto the examination table and undid the zipper, seeing one of Ray's eyes looking out curiously.

Harry stepped close and looked into the bowling bag, then quickly took what in other circumstances would have been a comical step backwards.

"Oh!"

Fraser peered into the bag, unsure of what Harry was seeing. It was just Ray, one dark eye blinking patiently. "Oh?"

"Yes, it's a honey badger, _Mellivora capensis_. I've never seen one of those before in real life. Very fearsome, very dangerous." Harry looked at Fraser with some perplexity. "How did you get him into the bag?"

"I asked, politely." Fraser thought about telling the whole truth, weighed that against the very real possibility of being committed to an insane asylum if he did. And if he was locked up, who would help Ray? "He's mostly tame," Fraser murmured.

"Hmm." Harry looked dubious, but opened the bag up and gently tipped it over. Ray trundled out, snuffling curiously, trying to climb off the exam table.

"I mainly need to know what honey badgers eat and if they have any other special requirements." Fraser scrubbed at his eyebrow and bit his lip to prevent himself from going into greater detail.

Ray always said to be a successful liar, you had to keep the details to a minimum. It was the details that would trip you up, the details that would make people be suspicious of you, the details that would fall down like a house of cards, taking your ruse with it.

Fraser was a terrible liar but he'd been practicing.

"Well, honey badgers are predatory omnivores. They eat pretty much anything that isn't nailed down. They are ferocious hunters. Basically, if it doesn't eat the honey badger first, the honey badger will eat it."

Ray proved his ferocity by curling up into a ball and yawning, showing off vicious fangs. "So, is there some kind of badger kibble I can buy, or do I need to let R—the honey badger out to hunt? I'm not sure how well received he will be in the urban jungles of Chicago."

"Badger kibble," Harry snorted. "No, he'll eat just about anything. Small and large mammals, snakes, insects, honey. They need a lot of calories in their native habitat—they're basically trotting stomachs. Give him a little bit of raw meat, see how he does. You can try rats and mice purchased from a pet store."

"Oh." Fraser looked down at Ray, peacefully sleeping. "Is there anything else I should be aware of?"

"Honey badgers are, pound for pound, the most fearsome animals on the planet. Just be careful; they have a reputation of going for the...ah...testicles."

"Ah." Fraser wasn't sure how to respond to that.

Jing-Wei laughed and moved forward to examine Ray more closely. "What a fascinating animal, Harry. What is their native habitat?"

"Don't surprise him," he warned as Jing-Wei approached Ray. "Honey badgers don't like to be surprised." Fraser filed that fact away for future reference. "Desert regions of Africa, Asia, Indian subcontinent, the Middle East." Ray woke, shook his head and blinked up at Jing-Wei.

"Burrows and dens, then?" Jing-Wei ran her hands slowly down Ray's back, examining his fur and the looseness of his skin.

"Yes," Harry replied. "They're good diggers." He gestured to Ray's claws. "Sometimes they take over unused burrows, but in general they like to make their own."

Jing-Wei laughed softly as Ray rolled over to have his belly scratched. He grumble-growled when she paused to ask more questions. "And I imagine that honey badgers are scent-oriented rather than sight-oriented—they don't have very good vision, do they? They have that in common with their badger-brothers of Europe and the Americas."

"Hmm, yes." Harry peered down at Ray and when Ray continued to appear nonthreatening, stepped a little closer. "Yes, but recent research indicates that _Mellivora capensis_ is actually more closely related to the weasel family."

"Fascinating." She gestured toward Fraser. "Did you have any other questions?"

"Yes, actually." It was something that was worrying him. "How intelligent are honey badgers?"

Harry reached out and examined one of Ray's claws. "Very. There are indications that they're smarter than dogs and when in captivity they tend to be escape artists. They're notorious for using tools, sticks and logs to help them get what they want."

"If you'd like, Benton, give me a little time to do some research and I can suggest some enrichment activities for your honey badger that will keep him occupied and out of trouble. The more intelligent an animal is the more likely it is to get into some kind of mischief, just out of boredom."

Fraser felt a rush of gratitude. "I would greatly appreciate it, Jing-Wei. Thank you."

* * *

Ray was determinedly unfearsome, but Fraser was careful nonetheless, coaxing him back to his feet and guiding him into the bowling ball bag. Fraser thanked Harry and Jing-Wei and with a tip of his hat, left the Lincoln Park Zoo. He drove them carefully back across Chicago, wondering what Dief's reaction was going to be. Fraser thought that maybe he ought to keep the two of them separated until the whole fiasco was resolved.

Back in Canada Dief had always respected the badgers and wolverines they'd run across, mainly due to Fraser's sharp warning. He didn't want to even deal with the idea of Dief and Ray fighting. Though it would have been difficult to keep Dief away; he had a nose for trouble and trying to convince him that nothing was amiss would be quite a stretch without lying. Unless Fraser wanted to further practice his prevarication skills.

He drove back to Ray's apartment and carried him upstairs, happy to see that Ray was still calm and laid back about their trip to the zoo. He unzipped the bowling bag and Ray trundled out sturdily and explored the apartment, looking for something to eat, Fraser hazarded. He sniffed along the floor, sneezing after getting a snout-full of dust. Really, Ray's housekeeping skills were appalling. Fraser watched Ray for a moment before he went into the kitchen to find something suitable for Ray to eat.

He really would have preferred to find some commercial badger kibble for Ray to eat. Instead, he made do with the leftovers in Ray's fridge. Chinese food, broccoli and beef, but not the spicy kind. He opened the container and sat down on the floor, whistling for Ray like he would Dief. He realized that Ray would probably not appreciate being treated like Dief or a pet, and so Fraser called him by name. "Ra-ay! I have food for you," he sing-songed, and shook the container a little, causing the food to shift stickily. "Dinner time, Ray!" He kept his voice cheerful, hoping that if Ray didn't respond to the words, he would at least respond to the tone of voice.

After a moment, Ray peered suspiciously around the corner at Fraser, his nose twitching avidly.

Fraser set the Styrofoam container, which he would have to speak firmly to Ray about, on the ground and pushed it toward Ray. "Sorry, it's just leftovers. I'll have to go shopping later."

Ray gave a peculiarly human half-nod and moved forward, burying his short muzzle in the container and taking bites of food and swallowing quickly, almost as if he were starved. Fraser knew better, though; Ray _always_ ate as if he were starving, like he hadn't eaten in weeks. Though in this case Fraser wasn't sure if the rapid inhalation of food was Ray's trait, or the honey badger's.

It didn't really matter either way. Fraser carefully stroked Ray's back, feeling the coarseness of the fur under his hands. From what he'd learned from Harry and Jing-Wei, honey badgers lived primarily in deserts and Fraser thought that maybe, like many desert animals, honey badgers trapped a layer of air in their fur to insulate themselves against the extreme hot and cold temperatures that were present in that environment. He suspected that honey badgers were nocturnal, as well, hunting a majority of their prey at night.

Ray burped and nosed around the container, licking up any stray grains of rice before curling up in Fraser's lap and closing his eyes, apparently ready for a nap. Looking down at the scruffy animal, Fraser felt a twinge of worry for his friend Ray, who might be humanly aware and trapped in a honey badger body. Though Ray seemed pretty unconcerned about the world around him, so maybe inside Ray's badger head was just a badger.

It was a worrisome metaphysical thought. None of Fraser's rather meager religious training at the hands of his grandparents prepared him for this kind of thing. Fraser doubted that the Bible spoke of transformations into animals, or that it spoke of honey badgers at all, as a matter of fact.

Carefully, Fraser picked up Ray and carried him over to the couch, setting him in the corner. He bunched the thin blanket Ray kept over the back of the couch around Ray, building a little nest for him to curl into, which he seemed to appreciate. He snuffled sleepily at Fraser and blinked at him before going back to sleep. Fraser petted him again, carefully. Ray had had a tough day. One doesn't ever wake up expecting to be transformed into an animal, let alone a exotic animal like a honey badger.

Once Ray fell asleep, Fraser started to make a shopping list. Pork, chicken, beef, honey with the honeycomb intact, if he could find it. A few bees wouldn't go amiss, either, but he had never seen insects being sold at conventional grocery stores. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to check. Maybe he could find some at one of the ethnic grocery stories for regions where insects were a protein source.

And some vegetables—broccoli, carrots, melons, maybe cabbage. Apples? Probably not oranges. He probably should buy a little of everything and hope that Ray wouldn't eat anything that's not good for him.

Oh, and a litter box. Fraser remember that the culprit in the Smelly Skunk Incident, as Ray referred to it, had been trained by her owner to use a litter box. He wondered if Ray could be trained to do the same.

"Ray, I'm going to the grocery story. I will be back as soon as I can." Ray opened one eye, made a strange squeaking sound, and went back to sleep. Fraser had a fond memory of Ray on the couch, belly distended after he'd eaten a whole cheese pizza.

Fraser smiled at the image. Maybe he'd have to keep a close eye on what Ray ate, after all. The last thing he wanted was for Ray to get sick from eating too much or from eating something that wasn't good for him. Ray was grumpy when he had a bellyache and Fraser didn't want to know what honey badgers were like when they weren't feeling well.

* * *

Fraser was sure that had been the quickest trip to the grocery store he'd ever made. He'd shopped with single-minded purpose, pulling things from the shelf and stacking them into his cart, following his alphabetical list, then checking out and driving home.

It felt strange and different shopping by himself—usually Ray or Dief would accompany him and then there was nothing quick or easy about it. This time, there were no arguments about buying dog food, no one begging for Cheetos, or Ding Dongs, or any other nutritionally bereft foods. No sarcastic comments about vegetables. It was a rather sobering example of how much his life had changed since he had met Ray.

Once back in the apartment, he set the bags of groceries on the floor because Ray seemed interested in what he had bought. Ray poked through the bags, snuffling loudly. He seemed inordinately interested in the carrots, so Fraser opened the bag for him and he crunched on a handful of them. Nothing else seemed to really catch his attention, so Fraser put it all away. He knew of a couple of pet stores where he could buy fresh mice and rats, but the idea of watching Ray eat live rodents was...disquieting.

Maybe Fraser could find a source of bee larvae, though. Maybe a nearby beekeeper who'd be willing to sell Fraser some larvae. There had been some vendors selling fresh honey and beeswax candles at the local farmer's market; maybe he'd start there in his quest for bee larvae. It would be a fine treat for Ray.

He picked up Ray and put him back on the couch. While honey badgers might be adept at climbing, their stout bodies didn't seem conducive to jumping and Ray needed help getting into his little blanket nest. Fraser left him there and went to set up the litter box in the bathroom under the sink. He sincerely hoped that Ray would use it; the idea of having to put Ray on a leash and take him outside to be walked like a dog was a little more than Fraser thought he could handle at this point. He rubbed at his eyebrow as he pondered Ray getting into fights with the neighborhood dogs and cats, frightening the people they'd encounter with his fearsome appearance and hearty growls. Yes, Fraser thought, it would be better overall if he didn't have to walk Ray like a dog.

He sat next to Ray, who seemed to be napping again, which didn't surprise Fraser. If honey badgers spent most of their time hunting for food, it only made sense that when they were not actively hunting, they were sleeping. Like lions. In the desert it was best to conserve energy whenever possible.

Fraser sat there, his hand on Ray's back, feeling the rise and fall of his warm body as he breathed. It seemed to be a good time to confess, to apologize for getting Ray into this mess. Fraser knew that the path to Hell was lined with good intentions and really, he knew they should have called for backup, should have waited, rather than approaching the miscreants themselves. He'd just been so sure that he'd be able to talk his fellow countrymen out of their foolish criminal intentions before things got worse, before anyone got hurt. Looking down at Ray, he wondered if being turned into an animal fit a loose definition of getting hurt.

He wanted to scold Ray for stepping in front of the glittery ball of...Fraser hesitated to use the word magic, but really, at this point he didn't know what other word fit. Ray had a bad habit of stepping between Fraser and danger and as much as it upset Fraser every time Ray did that, he had to admit to some secret part of him that was always warmed to discover that Ray cared that much for him, to risk his life for Fraser's.

Though this time, Ray couldn't really use the "I was wearing a vest" excuse. Fraser was going to have some stern words with him about that, if— _when_ he was back in his more familiar form. Fraser was willing to share the blame for this particular fiasco, but still, looking at Ray's badger form, it was hard not to feel tremendously guilty. What happened if they couldn't get Ray turned back into his normal non-honey badger self? Fraser shied away from that thought; losing Ray in such a manner didn't bear thinking about.

Ray raised his head and blinked at Fraser, before hopping down and trotting almost drunkenly into the bathroom. Fraser followed, just to be sure that Ray wasn't going to get into any trouble, though what could happen in the bathroom, Fraser wasn't sure. Though this _was_ Ray, who as a human managed to get into plenty of trouble, so Fraser didn't feel that checking on Ray was unwarranted.

Ray was staring into the litter box like it contained the greatest mysteries of the universe. And maybe for a honey badger, it did. He snuffled, shook himself and ran a paw through the clean litter, leaving behind a set of ragged, parallel lines. Ray's claws were indeed fearsome and made for digging in the hard packed African dirt.

SOK FRSR BUDY

Ray looked up at Fraser, still awkwardly holding out a single claw and Fraser could swear he could see a laugh behind his dark badger eyes. A tight knot in Fraser's chest relaxed and he took his first deep breath since this whole debacle had started. Ray _was_ in there, still alive and aware, if somewhat squashed into a much smaller, compact body.

Fraser had to restrain himself from picking up Ray and squeezing him in happiness. His greatest fear, that somehow being transformed into a honey badger had erased the very essence of Ray, was alleviated. Ray was alive, in good health, albeit in a strange-to-him shape. _That_ was repairable, had to be fixable. If it could be done, it could be undone, as his grandmother was wont to say. Fraser just had to figure out how.

"Okay, Ray, the first thing we need to do is have you returned to your normal form. I'm not sure if we want to track down the boys and somehow convince them to transform you back," Fraser paused at Ray's doubtful sneeze, "or if we should find help from alternative sources." He scratched at Ray's back absently, smiling as he rolled over playfully. "I could contact Tom Quinn, see if he has any advice. Or maybe even Eric," he said slowly. "Though I'm not sure Eric would be willing to speak to me again."

The last time they'd talked, they gotten into a slight disagreement. Eric was spearheading a campaign to get the RCMP to recruit and retain more First Nation officers for community policing programs. He'd wanted Fraser to return to Canada and work with him on the initiative and as worthwhile as that project was, there was too much tying him to Chicago for Fraser to leave.

Ray snorted.

"Well, yes, maybe I'm exaggerating a little." There was a scratching noise at the door and both Ray and Fraser looked in that direction. "Dief, I suppose."

Before Fraser could say anything, Ray was trundling off to the door, waiting with appeared to be little patience for Fraser to open the door. Fraser had the feeling that Ray would quickly get tired of waiting for someone to open doors for him.

Fraser knelt down and looked at Ray seriously. "Ray, please try to remember that you are in a different body, one that can do a lot of damage to a half-wolf, if you so choose. Please also realize that Dief might not realize you are in that body and he might be disturbed, or afraid. Keep these things in mind, if you will."

Ray sneezed.

"Okay, then." Cautiously, Fraser opened the door to let a prancing Dief inside, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck as he lunged toward Ray. All Dief wanted to do was lick Ray's head, though, so after a moment Fraser let him go. It was the ear thing, Fraser decided, except that Ray now had almost nonexistent external ears—he suspected a good portion of Ray's ears were internal to keep them from being ripped off when he challenged all manner of other predators like lions, cheetahs and hyenas.

Fraser still wasn't sure why animals like honey badgers would be so determined to challenge larger predators like that, but for whatever reason, they were well built for it. Honey badgers were shaped like turtles, low to the ground with a tough, broad back and loose skin to protect them.

Dief was whining and licking worriedly at Ray and Ray was patting Dief carefully on the muzzle with a clawed paw, trying to reassure him that everything was okay. Dief looked at Fraser and cocked his head curiously, demanding an explanation.

Fraser opened his mouth and realized that there was no way to explain without sounding like he had a hole in his bag of marbles. "It's a long story, Dief."

Dief whined some more and went back to grooming Ray, who had rolled over onto his back again. Fraser breathed out a sigh of relief—he had been worried that there would be issues between half-wolf and honey badger, but luckily they were both civilized animals.

He left them to their bonding to put down some food for Dief— Ray kept a food dish and a small container of half-wolf kibble (it was labeled as such, just in case Dief read the container) just for Dief.

* * *

Civilized animals, indeed.

Ray turned his nose up at the water bowl but he was interested in Dief's kibble. He took a nugget and backed away from the bowl, allowing Dief to nose at it. Dief looked up at Fraser and whined pathetically.

"No, you may not have doughnuts for dinner." At Dief's more insistent whine, Fraser shook his head. "No, I am very sure that Ray did not buy you Twinkies." He turned around and opened a cabinet. "See, no—" A box of Twinkies fell to the counter and Dief circled Fraser, tail wagging innocently. "No. Absolutely not, Dief. You will simply have to wait until Ray is in his more accustomed shape and wheedle them out of him when my back is turned."

Ray ate the piece of kibble he'd snagged and even without a human face, managed to look suitably disgusted by the taste. He patted Dief's head sympathetically and trundled out of the kitchen.

* * *

It was fascinating to watch Ray and Dief together. Dief had a rope pull toy and the two of them were playing a game of tug-of-war in which Ray was clearly at a disadvantage. With Ray's smaller mass, it was easy for Dief to drag Ray around the apartment by the rope, stopping every once in a while to let Ray uselessly _pull_ , claws scrabbling on the wood floor. Ray growled fiercely around the rope in his mouth and tugged and tugged until Dief let go of his end and Ray tumbled head over tail. He picked himself up, shook his head and ran back toward Dief, ready for another round.

Once they tired of playing tug-of-war, they curled together on the couch to watch nature shows.

Fraser just shook his head at them. At least they weren't fighting.

* * *

Fraser spent a good part of his evening making fruitless phone calls. He got a hold of Quinn's daughter, who told Fraser that Quinn was out on a search and rescue mission, looking for some lost hikers. She promised that she'd have her father call as soon as he got back. Fraser tried to reach Eric as well, but only managed to talk to Eric's sister's husband's uncle's grandkid, who promised to pass the message along.

He spent the rest of the evening slouched on the couch watching curling with Ray and Dief, Dief lolling next to him on one side, Ray peering out from his blanket nest. Fraser appropriated one of Ray's beers; it had been a long, frustrating day and he needed _something_ to ease the tension out of his shoulders.

Fraser half-heartedly cheered the Winnipeg team over the Toronto team, for no good reason other than he felt like it. Ray seemed no more interested in curling as a badger than as a human, which was too bad, because Dief was extremely poor company as he snored his way through the ends. Ray just stared at Fraser sadly, like watching curling was the most disappointing thing in the world for Fraser to do. Which to Ray, maybe it was.

After curling, they found a show about axolotls, _Ambystoma mexicanum_. Both Dief and Ray perked up at that, watching with fascination. They learned that axolotl was pronounced ak- _suh_ -lot-l and the animals were unmetamorphosed salamanders, forever stuck in their juvenile stage.

Axolotls were apparently highly sought by researchers because they had some unique biological characteristics. They were extremely long-lived for salamander-type animals, they had amazing wound healing abilities and they could regenerate limbs and other vital parts of their body.

They were also the one of the strangest looking animals Fraser had ever seen, a salamander body with a large, shovel shaped head and a halo of what appeared to be tentacles, but were actually exposed gills. The shape of their mouths gave axolotls a permanent smile. Fraser couldn't help but smile back at the television.

Eventually, Fraser found himself yawning and even the fascination of a show about axolotls couldn’t keep him awake. Both Dief and Ray had dozed off earlier and they grumbled and muttered when Fraser got up off the couch, stretching.

* * *

It didn't feel right to sleep in Ray's bed with Ray...indisposed, so Fraser got some spare linens from the closet and made up the couch. Dief curled up around Fraser's feet while Ray snuggled in with Dief. It was an tight fit with the three of them on the couch, but they made it work. Fraser suspected that tomorrow he was going to be sore and achy, but they needed this reconnection. The night was not a restful one; it turned out that not only did Dief snore, but so did Ray. Loudly.

In the morning, Fraser called into the 2-7 for Ray, explaining to Francesca the terrible case of laryngitis that Ray had developed and how it was impossible for him to talk; Ray would be back to work in a few days. He carefully embellished the story with what he hoped was the right amount of detail. Just like Ray had demonstrated when he'd talked about teaching Fraser to be a better liar.

Fraser called Turnbull as well, had him take detailed notes about the case, knowing that Inspector Thatcher was going to demand an update since they were dealing with Canadian nationals. Fraser was sure she would have something pointed to say about how imperative it was that Fraser keep the Americans from besmirching Canada's reputation.

Fraser debated purchasing a leash and collar for Ray—it would be easier than carting him around in the bowling ball bag. But it seemed undignified and wrong to put a collar and leash on Ray, just like it seemed wrong to put a collar and leash on Dief. An image of Ray in his human form, with a black leather collar tight around his neck, flashed through Fraser's mind and he flushed at the response that evoked. He tried to push the image to the back of his mind, burying it under random axolotl trivia from last night's nature show.

In the end he decided to continue to use the bowling ball bag, as ridiculous as that was. If worst came to worst, Fraser could pick up Ray and carry him around in his arms as well.

Dief insisted on coming along and Fraser eyed him suspiciously. “You just want to see Mr. Laferette again, don't you?” Dief's fascination with Gerome Laferette was still something of a mystery to Fraser.

Dief simply turned up his nose and refused to answer, sitting in the seat next to Ray's bag.

They visited Chatham first, searching for Gerome Laferette at all of his usual haunts. Fraser managed to discover, after questioning several shop owners, that Gerome had opened his own store in Evanston. After a quick consultation with a phone book, they had the address and headed north.

Gerome had opened a little grocery store on the corner of Howard, catering to the Caribbean immigrants in the area. It was a small building, packed full of fascinating items that Fraser would have loved to have had the time to explore. The bins of chicken feet, dried bats and other Voudun ingredients were especially interesting.

It was a busy place, the bell on the front door constantly chiming as customers came and went.

"Mr. Laferette?"

Gerome Laferette was behind the counter, stocking some shelves while his wife ran the register and greeted customers. Dief yipped happily and disappeared behind the counter, claws clicking on the linoleum floor.

"Ah, Constable...Fraser, wasn't it? And Diefenbaker, of course."

Fraser nodded politely. "It's Sergeant, now." He set the bowling ball bag on the counter and shook Mr. Laferette's outstretched hand. "Could I have a moment of your time? I have a...prickly problem I was hoping you could help me with."

Ray chose that moment to stick his nose out of the bag and hissed rather impolitely at Mr. Laferette. Fraser was on the verge of chiding him when Mr. Laferette peered into the bag.

"What do you have in there? It doesn't look very edible."

Ray growled.

"Oh, no, Mr. Laferette, this is Detective Kowalski. He has been turned into, temporarily, I hope, a honey badger, _Mellivora capensis_. I was thinking that maybe you might have an idea of how to turn him back into his normal human self."

"Bring him into the back."

Fraser and Dief followed Mr. Laferette through the beaded curtain to a workroom, filled with half-unpacked boxes. He set Ray's bag on the table and opened it, letting Ray tumble out. Dief stood up on his hind legs, paws on the counter, watching carefully.

Mr. Laferette looked at Ray and started laughing. "Such a feisty little animal. The outer shell suits Detective Kowalski perfectly." He looked at Fraser. "A curse?"

Fraser felt a blush creep across his skin. "Possibly. One that was directed at me, I believe, but Ray—Detective Kowalski, that is—stepped in front of a ball of glowing light and then...this." He gestured toward Ray. "Can you undo his transformation?"

Gerome Laferette, reputed to be one of the most powerful Voudon houngans in the Chicago area, put his hands on Ray's back, ignoring his grumbles. He closed his eyes and hummed a little under his breath. As Fraser and Dief watched, Ray seemed to glow a little, just the faintest outline of blue before it faded away.

"Ah, no." Mr. Laferette took a step back, regretfully. "No, there is nothing I can do for Detective Kowalski."

Ray hissed unhappily.

Fraser sighed, frustrated. "Could you possibly shed some light on the nature of the problem? Or point us in the direction of someone who might be able to help?" He rubbed at his eyebrow. "I must confess to being at a loss on what to do next."

"The problem, Sergeant Fraser, is that the spell, curse, whatever you want to call it, is strongly woven into Detective Kowalski's spirit in a manner which I am neither familiar with nor willing to tamper with. It is beyond my ken and I hesitate to even try."

Fraser petted Ray, trying to reassure him in spite of what Mr. Laferette was saying. Dief licked Ray, nuzzling at him.

"I believe the honey badger is an African animal, yes? You might try some of the shamans or magical practitioners from that region. Maybe they will have some special insight into Detective Kowalski's problem."

"Do you really think they'll be able to help?"

"No. But at this point, what do you have to lose?" He held out a hand. "And for a little donation, I will make offerings to Gran Ibo and Mait' Carrefour..."

Ray grumbled while Fraser handed over some money. Fraser shrugged; as Mr. Laferette had pointed out, they had nothing to lose. Ray submitted somewhat unhappily to being put back into his bag. Fraser thanked Mr. Laferette for his time and effort.

Mr. Laferette laughed abruptly. "I don't think I would have ever suspected Detective Kowalski of being a badger at heart, but it truly is his totem animal, isn't it? It fits him so well..."

"What did you say?" There was something in Mr. Laferette's musings that triggered a half-formed thought.

"I just said that it seems that Detective Kowalski's totem animal appears to be a honey badger—it seems to fit him exceedingly well."

"Of course," Fraser exclaimed. "I should have thought of that myself!" He zipped the bag up slightly and retrieved his hat. "Thank you so much, Mr. Laferette. You've been extremely helpful."

Gerome Laferette shook his head bemusedly. "Glad to be of service."

Dief whined and Fraser looked at him in surprise. “Well, you can do as you wish, Diefenbaker. Stay and visit with Mr. Laferette; you'll have to find your own way home.”

Fraser hurried back to the GTO, carefully placing Ray into the passenger seat before sliding behind the wheel. "I don't know why I didn't see it before, Ray. It's not a curse, not exactly. It's simply a spell to turn you into your totem animal. Which in your case is apparently a honey badger."

Ray sneezed in disbelief.

"Well, while I agree with you that no one could have guessed what your totem animal was, I will point out at the same time that at least it's not a _random_ transformation."

Ray snuffled and shifted in his bag.

"Well, Ray, this transformation has personal meaning to you. That spell saw to the heart and soul of you, and changed your outer body to match your inner one. Your inner animal is apparently a honey badger."

Growling, Ray pawed at the zipper of the bag, pushing it back enough so he could poke his head out and look at Fraser.

"Well, that means that it should be somewhat easier to change you back." Fraser was quickly losing patience with Ray's refusal to see the positive in the situation. It could have been so much worse. Ray could have lost his human intelligence when he'd been transformed. Fraser really tried hard not to think about that. At all.

Though Fraser had to wonder: if Ray had been turned into a honey badger with only the intelligence of an animal, would Ray have even noticed? Fraser suspected not; it would have been Fraser himself who would have been most upset. Ray would have been too busy eating and sleeping and being fierce.

"Calm down, Ray. We will find someone who knows about these kinds of things, or someone who can direct us to someone who can help and then you'll be right as rain before you know it."

Ray snorted and settled back down. Fraser patted the bowling bag, trying to project confidence.

Fraser drove them south to Edgewater, a neighborhood that had experienced an influx of African immigrants over the last ten years. They tried the restaurants and grocery stores first, asking respectfully to be directed to a local shaman—Fraser avoided using the term "witch doctor" because he was pretty certain that it was considered offensive.

Eventually, an older woman smiled happily at Fraser and pointed them toward David Klein, a shaman of some repute. He thanked her profusely and they headed to his shop.

David Klein turned out to be a bookstore owner. Fraser had to give himself a stern talking-to about his desire to browse through the enormous selection of books. Instead, he forced himself to focus on Ray and their current dilemma. Once Ray was returned to his more normal form, Fraser could come back and window shop to his heart's content. Maybe even make a small purchase or two with the money he'd been putting toward his savings.

“What can I do for you, Sergeant?” David Klein was an average man—neither young nor old, of average build and height. Totally unremarkable, except for his South African accent, his wide, brilliant smile, and a charisma that radiated off of him like heat from the sun.

Fraser opened his mouth to explain and paused. Really, there was no way to simply disclose the strange events of the past few days. Fraser debated with himself for a moment before he decided to stick to the truth, even though it did appear that he was getting better at lying. Or rather equivocating.

“My partner, Detective Ray Kowalski has recently been transformed from an excellent member of the Chicago Police department to a _Mellivora capensis_.”

Mr. Klein looked at Fraser. “ _Mellivora capensis_?” There was no comprehension on his face.

“Oh. Yes.” Fraser cleared his throat. “Detective Kowalski has been turned into a honey badger.”

The confusion on Mr. Klein's face cleared. “Oh, a ratel.” He sounded delighted. He patted the counter. “Put him here.”

Following Mr. Klein's instruction, Fraser placed the bowling bag on the counter and undid the zipper, letting Ray trundle out. Ray sniffed curiously at Mr. Klein.

"What a handsome fellow he is," Mr. Klein said, petting Ray's head with a cautious finger. "In my home country ratels are much admired for their ferocity and bravery. They are known to attack animals much larger than themselves and drive them away with their refusal to back down." He smiled slyly, teeth bright white in his dark face. "Ratels have a reputation for attacking the...ah, how do you say it...the manhood? of their enemies. Very fierce and dangerous."

Ray chuffed, clearly amused.

"Now, this fellow. If I squint at him, I can see the shape of the man inside the ratel. He shares a lot of qualities with the ratel, no? Brave and stubborn and known to not back down from a fight. But also big-hearted."

Fraser nodded, amazed that Mr. Klein could _see_ that much of Ray in his animal form.

"And loyal. Once he gives his friendship, nothing can make him waver from it."

"Detective Kowalski—Ray is a wonderful friend and partner," Fraser agreed. "He has made my life in Chicago bearable, has been there for me when I've needed him, has stepped in front of bullets and jumped out of planes for me." He laid his hand on Ray's back. "I don't know what I would have done if he hadn't come into my life when he had."

"It is good, this bond you have with Detective Kowalski. You keep each other safe. Which," he eyed Fraser knowingly, "you both seem to need."

Ray made a sort of chirping sound, much like a bird would, wriggling under Fraser's hand.

Fraser opened his mouth to deny it, but realized that it was nothing but the simple truth. He had a tendency to put his and Ray's life at risk and that hadn't changed one bit since they'd come back from their adventure searching for the Hand of Franklin. He dipped his head in acknowledgment.

Mr. Klein continued talking, his voice taking on an almost sing-song cadence, one favored by storytellers the world over. “My grandfather was a San, what they sometimes call a Bushman, from the Kalahari, and he had many stories about the ratel. I remember one, from long, long ago, where a lion encountered a ratel. Both animals were very hungry; even then the hunting was lean. The lion was determined to make a meal out of the much smaller ratel. And so they fought, fiercely, for a long time. Eventually the lion managed to kill the ratel, but he was so badly wounded he could not lie down to eat it. And from that day forward, lions have avoided the ratel."

Ray, standing on the counter between them, squeaked happily. Mr. Klein stroked down his back and Ray rolled over to have his belly rubbed.

"A Pyrrhic victory," Fraser murmured.

"Indeed." Mr. Klein smiled. "The San use stories about the ratel as a teaching tool, about tempering ferocity with kindness, since as fearsome as the ratel is, it often forms a relationship with the honey guide bird and will share honey with the bird as a reward for leading the ratel to the honey. We tell our children to be like the brave ratel. In South Africa, the phrase _so taai soos a ratel_ means as tough as a honey badger. The Zulu say _ubenjengo linda - unqine - uhlakaniphe - ubelesibindi_. Be like the badger - be strong - be brave - be clever."

Fraser couldn't help but smile at that and looking down at Ray, his smile just grew wider. The ratel seemed to be the perfect embodiment of Ray's personality, fierce but with a soft heart.

Carefully, Fraser stroked Ray's belly.

"Now, you, Sergeant, you are a _ysbeer_ , a what do you call it—" Mr. Klein snapped his fingers three times in succession. "—a pol-ar bear. That is the animal of your soul, what the Native Americans would call your totem animal. Strong, proud, solitary. Dangerous."

Fraser thought about it for a moment, at the _rightness_ of the thought. He'd always loved the polar bears of the wild north, _Ursus maritimus_ , their amazing prowess at hunting and surviving in an environment that was possibly the most difficult ecosystem to thrive in. Humans had a hard time doing so; the Inuit and the Sami, the Ainu, the Yupik and the Inupiat all managed to create culture and society in the northern reaches, but it wasn't easy. Polar bears made living on the tundra look easy, but that was what they had evolved to do.

A sudden shiver rippled through Fraser as he thought of the consequences of Ray not stepping in front of him as the young men had cast their spell; the image of a polar bear wandering the streets of Chicago, however polite and careful, would have inspired panic and fear and possibly deadly force from the animal control officers of Chicago. It would not have gone well.

As much as he hated to admit it, it was better that Ray had suffered the transformation to his spirit animal rather than Fraser. While Ray as a honey badger was as ferocious, if not more so, than a polar bear, he was smaller and less physically intimidating than a three meter tall, 600 kilogram bear. Most people, seeing a honey badger for the first time, would be wary and cautious. Most people, seeing a polar bear shambling down Lake Shore Drive, would run in the opposite direction, screaming.

"Both of you are solitary animals, usually only meeting others of your kind during mating season. But you've managed to find a like-minded soul in each other, and you've created a strong friendship between you." Mr. Klein looked at Fraser, dark eyes almost hypnotic. "That bond is strong and it's what has kept Detective Kowalski from losing his human essence while in the ratel's body."

Ray chittered and nibbled on Fraser's fingers, a subtle demand that Fraser resume petting Ray's belly.

"Oh."

Mr. Klein looked sad. "I cannot undo this spell, Sergeant. The shaman who cast this spell is an excellent craftsman. For lack of a better analogy, the spell is like a string, wrapped around and around Detective Kowalski's spirit until it resembles a ball of yarn. But the end of the string has been carefully tucked away, hidden. I can't find the end of the string and so I can't unravel the spell."

"Oh, dear." Fraser breathed through his overwhelming disappointment. "So we need to find the perpetrators and have them remove the spell."

"Yes. Or, possibly Detective Kowalski can unravel it from the inside."

Fraser shook his head. "I don't think Detective Kowalski has either enough belief or understanding of the magical principles involved in this to be of any help."

Ray hissed at that, flipping over onto his feet and waddling away from Fraser to scratch at his bowling ball bag. Apparently he was done with this particular conversation.

Mr. Klein tilted the bag so Ray could climb in. "I think you should not discount Detective Kowalski's participation in this particular situation."

"Possibly. Do you think this is a time-critical issue? For instance, is there a period of time after which Ray won't be able to be transformed back into his human form? Could he get stuck in his honey badger form?"

Mr. Klein looked thoughtful. "That is the way these things work in the old tales, yes. But I wonder—" He coaxed Ray back out of the bag and stared at him for a while, calming him with firm strokes down his back. "It doesn't appear that that would be the case. Detective Kowalski and his honey badger form are two distinct and separate forms; there doesn't seem to be any blending or overlap. Which is what I would expect if that was a possibility."

"So he's safe, for now." Fraser sighed in relief.

"I'm not saying that you shouldn't try to get Detective Kowalski back into his more accustomed shape. I definitely think it would be better for Detective Kowalski to explore his wild side of his own free will, not unwillingly transformed by an outside force."

Fraser thanked Mr. Klein and promised to keep him apprised of the situation as things developed.

* * *

"What is _that_ , son?"

Fraser almost jolted off the couch, clutching at his chest, feeling his heart hammering. Ray was startled as well, hissing threateningly. He climbed up onto the back of the couch, putting himself between Fraser and his father, growling loudly.

"What is what, Dad?"

"That animal. It looks like a defective badger. He wouldn't make a very good hat." Bob looked at Ray curiously. "Whatever he is, he doesn't seem to be that happy to see me."

Fraser watched wonderingly as Ray continued to growl at Bob, baring his fearsome teeth and making his fur stand on end. It made his badger body look much bigger, and certainly more dangerous. But of course, the amazing thing was that Ray was seeing, perceiving Bob Fraser. As a human, Ray had never noticed the presence of his father's ghost, but that obviously wasn't the case now.

"This is Ray, Dad."

"The Yank?" Bob looked surprised. "He didn't used to be...whatever he is."

"A honey badger. _Mellivora capensis_." Fraser found himself rubbing at his eyebrow and made a conscious effort to stop. "There was a slight...mishap." He put his hand on Ray's broad back, trying to reassure him. "It's okay, Ray. This is my father, Robert Fraser. Or rather, the ghost of my father."

" _Sergeant_ Robert Fraser, retired RCMP.” He gave Fraser a chiding look. “Well, there's no need to point out my more obvious handicaps, son." Bob was looking between Fraser and Ray, and back again. "And you have a hole in your bag of marbles. It's clearly your mother's influence, I can see that now."

"Thanks, Dad." He grimaced and patted Ray, who was looking at him with something akin to confusion. It was hard to tell; badgers didn't have the most expressive faces. Though sometimes Ray could demonstrate a wealth of emotions with a simple twitch of his whiskers.

Bob ran a quick hand over Ray's fur, shaking his head. "Definitely would not make a good hat. His fur is rough and coarse; he would probably be itchy, as well."

Ray snarled at Bob before turning away and curling up into his blanket nest.

"Now look what you've done, Dad. That was totally unnecessary."

Looking outraged, Bob snapped, "Me? I just spoke the truth. He _would_ make a terrible hat."

Fraser closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to push back the headache that was threatening. "Did you stop by for some reason other than to annoy me? Because it has been stressful enough dealing with Ray's transformation; I'm not sure I have the fortitude to deal with you as well."

Bob huffed, offended. "I was just doing my paternal duties, checking on my favorite son—"

"I am your _only_ son," Fraser interjected.

"—and your mother..."

"Mom kicked you out again, didn't she?"

"I don't have to put up with this—this flippancy. I'll be back when you've learned to speak to your elders with respect." With a soundless pop, Bob disappeared.

Fraser sighed, smiling slightly when Ray poked his nose out of his blanket nest. "It's safe, Ray, he's gone." Ray emerged and crawled into Fraser's lap as he sat back down on the couch. "I'm sorry you had to meet him like that. Normally people don't see him, so I was surprised that you could. The only ones who have seen him in the past have been Buck Frobisher and Maggie." Ray rolled over so that Fraser could rub at his belly.

"Sometimes he drives me crazy, popping in with unhelpful advice and snide little remarks." Fraser let himself relax a little; petting Ray seemed to have a calming effect on him. "When I was a child, I wanted nothing more than to spend time with him. But duty came first, always came first, and he was responsible for patrolling a large territory. I rarely saw him and when I did, it was only for short periods of time." Fraser stared unseeingly at Ray. "Now that he's dead, he has too much time on his hands. But he doesn't really know how to be a father and I really don't know how to be a son, so we spend a lot of time arguing." He rubbed at his eyebrow, surprised how easy it was to confess things to Ray in his badger form.

Things he could never say to Ray in his human form. Things he _should_ have talked to Ray about, but just couldn't.

Fraser and Ray went back to watching the National Geographic special on elephants, though Fraser wasn't paying as much attention to the show as Ray. It was a rerun and he had already watched it once with Dief, but Ray seemed inordinately fond of nature shows now that he was a badger, so Fraser tried to oblige him. Fraser kept hoping that a show about honey badgers would air, but apparently honey badgers were not common on television.

* * *

Quinn was appalled when Fraser explained the situation.

"Why would these two young men do such a thing? To learn these kinds of skills takes many years of training under a powerful shaman, who would never have taken them on as students if he didn't trust that his students would differentiate between right and wrong."

Fraser shrugged, watching Ray roll over and attack his hiking boot. "I don't know, Quinn. They were involved in a simple smuggling case—they weren’t even suspects, just possible witnesses. When we tried to interview them, they ran. We gave chase and when we managed to corner them, they cast their spell just as Ray stepped in front of me." Fraser had to admit to himself that he was still upset by Ray's act of selflessness.

Ray growled playfully as he wrestled with Fraser's shoe.

"What kind of smuggling case?" Quinn asked.

"Maple syrup was being incorrectly labeled and then smuggled into Canada."

There was a stunned silence from the other end of the phone line. "Smuggled _into_ Canada?" Quinn's voice was incredulous and Fraser totally understood. It made no sense at all unless you had a keen understanding of the subtle economics of the maple syrup trade.

"The syrup was being harvested in the United States, dyed dark, labeled as Canadian #3 grade, then smuggled and sold mainly in Quebec, where it's illegal to sell the #3 grade."

Quinn still wasn't convinced. "Is there a high demand for this grade of maple syrup?"

"It is the rarest grade of maple syrup. And it is favored among connoisseurs and chefs, who will pay quite a lot for the syrup on the black market." A black market for products that were perfectly legal in other provinces. Fraser had to shake his head at the very idea. He looked down at Ray, who was tugging on his pants leg. "I've got to go, Quinn. It's time to feed Ray. Let me know if you hear anything."

"Will do, Benton. In the meantime, be careful, you and Ray."

"Thank you, Quinn. Take care."

Fraser hung up the phone and scooped Ray up, carrying him into the kitchen. "What sounds good for lunch, Ray? I'm very sorry to say I still haven't managed to procure any lizards or large insects, but I do have a bit of honeycomb and maybe some beef. How does that sound?"

* * *

They shared a companionable lunch, Ray with his honeycomb and a little raw beef, Fraser with his fat-free turkey on a whole wheat roll with lettuce and tomato. As they ate, Fraser outlined what they needed to do next, which primarily consisted of tracking down the two young boys who had managed to transform Ray and getting some answers.

Fraser was sure that Ray would want to kick them in the head, but since he had neither feet suitable for kicking nor boots meant for head-kicking, Fraser didn't think that was terribly feasible. Though he should probably ensure that Ray wasn't anywhere near the boys when they were questioned—Fraser was still too concerned about the honey badger's reputation of ripping off the testicles of their enemies to feel comfortable in letting him into the interrogation room.

Ray ended up getting an extraordinary amount of honey on his muzzle and in his fur. Fraser dampened a washrag and spent some time grooming the honey out of his fur; Ray would eventually clean it off himself, but in the meantime the sticky substance got onto everything. It was just easier this way and it was a soothing and relaxing ritual for both of them.

Fraser wasn't exactly sure why they both enjoyed the grooming sessions, but at the same time he had no desire to delve into the subconscious implications of them. All he really needed to acknowledge was that it was easier to clean the honey off of Ray than off the couch.

Afterward, Fraser tried reaching Eric again, but only managed to talk to Eric's mother. Mrs. Kitikmeot was subtly evasive of Eric's whereabouts, which had alarm bells ringing in the back of Fraser's head. "Mrs. Kitikmeot, I'm not sure what is going on, but my partner Ray Kowalski has some...issues that I think Eric can shed some light on with. Please let him know that I need his help."

He asked about the rest of Eric's extended family, especially Eric's nephew David. He discovered that Aunt Sophie's rheumatism was getting worse and that Cousin Joe was in jail again for fishing over the limit and Mrs. Kitikmeot's newest great-granddaughter had just turned three and was growing like a weed. Fraser listened and um-hmm'd in all the right places as Mrs. Kitikmeot filled him in on all the details of various family members.

That was one of the things that Fraser liked best about Eric's family—they really treated him like he was part of their family, regardless of the fact that he was a Qallunaaq, an outsider. The extended family had opened their arms and accepted him and he appreciated that. When they'd visited all those years ago during the whole mask fiasco, they'd just treated him like a member of the family, moved themselves into his apartment and made themselves at home.

Ray had done the exact same thing, except he'd made himself at home in Fraser's heart before Fraser even realized what was going on. Fraser was still a little surprised by that.

After Victoria Metcalf, Fraser had pretty much given up on the idea of love. He found himself incapable of loving moderately; when he loved, he gave it his all. And that had proved to be dangerous for everyone—himself, Victoria, Dief, Ray Vecchio, the entire Vecchio clan. He'd been so caught up in his passion for Victoria that he hadn't cared about the consequences.

Victoria had crashed through the walls he'd built around his heart; Ray just walked softly through them, uninvited, unexpected but still wholly welcomed.

Dief showed up, scratching at the door. He padded in and joined Ray on the couch. Ray and Dief napped while Fraser called several possible sources, searching for the two boys responsible for Ray's transformation. Even though Mr. Klein had indicated that there wasn't a time limit to how long Ray could stay in his badger form, Fraser was anxious to have Ray back in his human shape. He was getting much too attached to Ray in his badger shape and often forgot himself, telling Ray all manner of things he didn't mean to. If Ray wasn't restored back to his original form soon, Fraser would have no secrets left. And that made him feel naked and exposed.

* * *

Eventually, as happens with most police work, they caught a break.

A friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend, a Sergeant working the border at Sault Ste. Marie, had a report of two First Nations boys crossing the border into the United States several weeks previously. They'd had identification that had established them as brothers, one barely eighteen, the other a year or so older, traveling to Chicago to visit relatives. Fraser worked his Canadian contacts, digging hard to find that they'd traveled from Thunder Bay to Sault Ste. Marie by boat, working passage on a small fishing boat on Lake Superior. The trail grew cold west of Thunder Bay, but Fraser had the RCMP as well as regional police looking for the young men, now that they had an idea of where to look.

Fraser would almost bet money, if gambling wasn't against the law, that the two boys had taken the simplest route from the west coast—from Edmonton or Calgary to Regina to Winnipeg to Thunder Bay. They could have taken the train or the bus, or hitchhiked their way across the country to Sault Ste. Marie, and then down into Chicago.

Taking the bus was cheaper than the train and more reliable and safer than hitchhiking, so Fraser placed a call to Transport Canada and talked to a young woman who turned out to be Sergeant Turnbull's cousin's sister's best friend who promised to see what information she could uncover.

It occurred to Fraser that he was running up a rather large long distance phone bill on Ray's phone. Well, he was sure Ray would understand, in the long run. It was all in the line of duty, as it were.

Fraser now had a likely route that the two young men had traveled to Chicago on and it seemed likely that if they were fleeing the country, they would stick to what was marginally familiar. He had both the American and the Canadian police forces on the lookout for the boys; it was the best they could do at this point.

The biggest question still remained: why? How were these two involved in the maple syrup smuggling operation that he and Ray had stumbled on by accident?

* * *

He checked in with Lieutenant Welsh, who was rather insistent about speaking to Ray. Fraser prevaricated—Ray's throat was very sore and he'd been instructed by the doctor to refrain from speaking. Welsh was dubious and suspicious, but he let it pass for now.

"Sergeant, I expect to see Detective Kowalski's bright and shiny face first thing in the morning, understand?"

"Yes, of course, sir." Fraser winced just the tiniest bit.

There was a long, meaningful pause from Welsh's end of the line and Fraser held his breath, waiting.

"Sergeant," Welsh finally said, sounding very, very, tired, "you would tell me if something hinky was going on, wouldn't you?"

"Absolutely, sir." The Lieutenant couldn't possibly see Fraser's crossed fingers.

"Hmmm." Welsh sounded like a dissatisfied bear. "I will see you and Detective Kowalski in the morning, then."

"Yes, sir," Fraser said.

Lieutenant Welsh simply grunted and hung up the phone.

"Oh, dear," Fraser mumbled, looking at Ray in his current honey badger form. Dief whined questioningly.

The jig was up. Because something hinky was most definitely going on.

* * *

Fraser gave in to the inevitable and first thing in the morning, coaxed Ray into his bag and headed into the 27th Precinct, Dief at his heels. Dief headed for Huey and his donuts while Fraser went to confront the bear in his den.

Fraser knocked on the frame of Lieutenant Welsh's open door and at Welsh's nod, stepped into the office, shutting the door behind him. He took a moment to shut the blinds against prying eyes before setting the bag on Welsh's desk. He stood at attention, back straight.

Welsh leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Have you finally come to your senses, Sergeant, and given up curling for the noble sport of bowling?" His face gave nothing away.

"No, sir. It's just that the bag was the most convenient transport." He unzipped the bag and let Ray out.

Welsh straightened and slowly pushed away from his desk. "And what, if I may be so bold to ask, is that?"

"For reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture...Ray has been transformed into a honey badger, _Mellivora capensis_."

"Has he, now?" Welsh looked decidedly skeptical and eyed Ray, who sat on his desk. "I had not noticed a propensity in the past for Detective Kowalski to turn into a...what did you call him? A honey badger?"

"It's a new thing," Fraser admitted. "The two First Nations boys cast a spell on Ray, resulting in his current form."

"Indeed."

Ray chittered and sat back on his haunches unsteadily, waving a clawed paw at Welsh.

"Detective?" Welsh peered at Ray uncertainly. "Is that you?"

Ray sneezed and twitched his whiskers in agreement.

"Huh." Welsh steepled his fingers and pinned Fraser with a glare. "I have to wonder, Sergeant, if turning into a...a...honey badger doesn't fit your definition of 'something hinky,' what would?"

Fraser winced.

Welsh apparently decided to let Fraser off the hook and moved on. "So, Sergeant, what progress have you made on getting Detective Kowalski transformed _back_ into his more usual shape?"

Fraser slumped into parade rest. "Very little, sir." Fraser quickly outlined what Gerome Laferette and David Klein had said and pointed out that the two young men seemed to hold the key to Ray's transformation back to a human.

Welsh sighed. "If you had seen fit to apprise me of the situation at any point in time, I would have gladly informed you that there are a couple of Federal agents from the Department of Agriculture who have been terribly interested in speaking to you and Detective Kowalski. They seem to have in their custody two young Canadian nationals that they feel have been doing some illegal importation of agricultural products."

"Sir?" Fraser couldn't believe it.

"Agents Longabaugh and Parker picked the boys up at a flophouse near the Lake. They are in Interrogation Room #2, awaiting Detective Kowalski and yourself to enlighten them."

Ray scuttled back into the bag eagerly.

"Thank you, sir," Fraser said, grabbing the bag and hurrying off to Interrogation Room #2.

* * *

Robert Parker was rail thin and tall with glasses, Harry Longabaugh was short and slightly pudgy with some rather fearsome looking tattoos. Both were young, in their mid-thirties, and not what Fraser had expected; 'Federal Agent' usually evoked images of black suits and serious, bland faces. Agent Parker had a strange two-toned hair style, light on dark and Agent Longabaugh's bottom lip was pierced by a ring. Fraser guessed that they must spend a lot of time undercover.

Fraser introduced himself and shook their hands, setting Ray's bag on the table and letting him out. Ray had a vested interest in the proceedings, after all. They sat at the table as Ray waddled out of the bag, snuffling curiously. He made his _prrrt_ sound at the agents.

"This is my partner, Detective Ray Kowalski," he said, waving toward Ray's badger self, who was busy chewing on a pen he'd found on the table. "He hasn't been...himself for a few days now."

Parker just pursed his lips and nodded. Longabaugh eyed Ray thoughtfully.

The fact that Fraser was claiming that his Chicago Police Department partner had been transformed into an exotic animal didn't seem to disturb either of the agents. It was possible that they were humoring him until they had a chance to call the mental health authorities. Or maybe they also lived in a world with Voudon practitioners, performance arsonists, bouga toads, and ghosts.

Fraser suspected it was the latter.

"Sergeant Fraser, if you could please explain how you and Detective Kowalski got involved with John and James Kitikmeot." Longabaugh spoke rapidly and had an accent that was definitely not local.

"Kitikmeot?" Of course. Kitikmeot was not an uncommon name in the First Nations, but it was too much of a coincidence for these two young men to _not_ be related to Eric. Which explained why Eric's family had been stonewalling him so thoroughly.

"Kitikmeot," Longabaugh repeated, obviously seeing something telling on Fraser's face. "The name's familiar?"

Ray was investigating Parker's hands, which were primly folded on the table. Parker unclasped his hands and held them open for Ray, palms up and fingers spread. His fingers were unusually long, like a musician's. Ray licked at a finger thoughtfully.

"I know several people named Kitikmeot. I don't know these two boys, though."

Longabaugh nodded. "Please tell us how you and Detective Kowalski got tangled up in this mess." He took out a small notepad and a pen. Fraser tried not to stare at all the tattoos that covered his hands.

Fraser did, telling them about the initial complaint by a shopkeeper concerning the adulterated maple syrup to chasing down leads through the meatpacking district in West Loop to finally cornering the boys in a filthy alley near Grant Park.

"And then what happened?"

"That happened," Fraser said, pointed to Ray. "One of the boys was chanting, the other was holding a gun. I tried to talk them into surrendering themselves—" Fraser ignored the _very_ angry chittering from Ray, "—and suddenly there was a ball of glittering lightning being thrown at me and Ray pushed me out of the way." Fraser shrugged. "When I could see again, the boys were gone and Ray was...like this. A honey badger. _Mellivora capensis_."

" _Mellivora capensis_ ,” Longabaugh repeated slowly. “I see." Parker just nodded and hummed thoughtfully, scritching Ray's head.

"What is the USDA's interest in the case?"

Longabaugh leaned back in his chair, his leg jiggling to some unheard beat. "We've been working on infiltrating a smuggling op in the area. Mainly foodstuffs: absinthe, haggis, unpasteurized dairy products, unregulated meats, the fraudulently labeled maple syrup you'd been tracking down, that sort of thing."

"Haggis? I didn't realize that haggis was illegal in the United States."

"Just imported haggis. Haggis made here is fine." Longabaugh nodded. "The importation was banned because a major ingredient in haggis is sheep lungs. The USDA banned the importation of products containing British sheep ingredients in 1971. And since the 90's, all British beef and lamb products have been banned as well due to BSE, bovine spongiform encephalopathy "

"How uncivilized," Fraser muttered. "A Burns Dinner isn't the same without a haggis."

Parker laughed and shook his head.

"You're not the first person to ever say so, Sergeant," Longabaugh said. "We don't make the laws, we just enforce them."

Fraser rubbed at his eyebrow, feeling sheepish. "I know. Just—haggis."

"Anyway, the boys got involved in this smuggling op, which while illegal, wasn't really pinging as _bad_ on their moral compasses, you know. They figured it was a fast and easy way to make some money and they wouldn't have to worry too much about the karmic debt." Longabaugh shrugged. “I mean, really. Smuggling food? Mostly not going to hurt people, thought the BSE is always a worry.”

Parker took up the thread of the story as Ray rolled over to have his belly petted. "Except that criminals, for the most part, are greedy." Parker obliged Ray. "So the smugglers started to expand their operation into more profitable, less karmically comfortable directions—the wildlife trade. Whale bone, ivory tusks, seal skins, polar bear furs, grizzly bear claws, that kind of thing. Very limited supply, huge market, very, very profitable."

"Oh, my," Fraser said. Ray grumbled angrily in agreement.

"Yeah, and that was what scared the shit out of the boys." Parker smiled grimly. " Suddenly they found themselves in a very different situation—smugglers who were deadly serious about what they were doing, very dangerous men. There was talk of moving booze and tobacco, maybe even guns."

"Harry and I had managed to infiltrate this smuggling operation and the first thing we notice are these two _kids_ , totally out of their element and in over their heads. Our main concern was to get them out of there, shove 'em into a safe house until we managed to take the op down and then send them home to their parents." Parker pushed his glasses back up his nose and looked pointedly at Fraser. "But then you showed up and they bolted—"

Fraser made a protesting sound. "We had no way of knowing they were involved in a Federal investigation."

Ray got up and growled as well, backing him up, for which Fraser was grateful. He patted Ray in reassurance.

Longabaugh touched Parker's shoulder and something unspoken passed between the two. "True." Parker sighed. "In the meantime, the various members of the organization have scattered and we're worried that they might come after the boys, thinking that they were the ones who called the Feds. They're safe for now; their uncle Eric Kitikmeot is coming down from Canada to take custody of them."

"They're lucky we've decided to not press charges," Parker interjected.

"Eric. Of course."

"A name you _are_ familiar with," Longabaugh stated.

Fraser only nodded, while Ray grumble-growled. "An old friend. I've been trying to reach him since this—" a wave to indicate Ray, "—happened. I thought he might be able to help, since the boys had disappeared. Maybe between Eric and the boys we will be able to unravel this rather tricky situation."

Longabaugh pushed his notebook toward Fraser and raised a dark eyebrow. "Leave your address and a phone number where we can reach you, Sergeant, and as soon as we pick up Mr. Kitikmeot from the airport, we'll stop by and see if he can help with Detective Kowalski's...difficulties."

* * *

Lieutenant Welsh had distributed the active cases on Ray's desk to the other detectives and ordered Fraser and Ray home until Ray was 'more presentable.' Fraser wasn't sure if 'more presentable' in this case meant Ray in human form, or maybe a freshly bathed honey badger. Either way, Fraser decided it would be better not to ask too many questions.

They escaped.

Fraser wasn't sure if Ray was ready to return to the apartment; he knew that Dief certainly wasn't and Fraser himself felt that a bit of fresh air might do them all some good. They'd been cooped up in the apartment for the better part of a couple of days and they were all going stir-crazy in their own ways.

They went to Grant Park, which was mostly deserted in the middle of an early spring day. Ray kept a blanket in the trunk of the GTO which Fraser grabbed along with Ray's bag and they followed Dief into the park. Fraser found a nice shaded spot, quiet and out of the way, to spread out the blanket.

He let Ray out of the bag and asked Dief to keep an eye on him. Ray chittered and made a _prrrt_ sound that Fraser still hadn't managed to translate. Fraser laid down on the blanket, arms under his head, letting himself relax a little. The spot was secluded enough that the sounds of the city were muffled and distant; Fraser managed to tune them out. There was a cool breeze coming off the Lake and instead of wandering off to explore both Dief and Ray curled up next to him. It was a nice moment.

Fraser wondered why this case had gone so badly from the start. From the initial report of fraudulently labeled maple syrup to Ray's improbable change into a honey badger to Fraser's inability to get anywhere in transforming him back, it was like this case was specifically designed to highlight all of Fraser's deficiencies.

He had many faults; Fraser _knew_ that. His grandparents had not hesitated to point out his flaws when he was growing up. It was very frustrating when his failure to solve the case was hurting Ray, keeping him in a shape that wasn't his own.

He knew, too, that once Ray was back in human form, they were going to have what Ray would call a 'knock-down, drag-out' fight about Fraser breaking his promise to wait for backup. Ray had finagled that promise out of Fraser at a low point in their partnership; they'd been at the emergency room, Ray getting several stitches for the graze he'd gotten from a stray bullet. Fraser could almost convince himself that Ray had _coerced_ that promise from him, using emotional blackmail.

Everyone knew that promises given under duress didn't count.

He was sure that that particular argument wasn't going to work with Ray. Instead, Ray was going to yell and throw things and call Fraser selfish and inconsiderate and thoughtless. None of which were true; Fraser knew that. Fraser also knew that Ray had a point, which was that Fraser's disregard for his own personal safety was upsetting to those who cared for him. Meaning that he _was_ selfish, inconsiderate and thoughtless.

As bad as that night had been, with Ray hurt and Fraser terrified, there had been another incident that had been far worse—the Henry Allen fiasco. Just thinking about it left the taste of fear and adrenaline in his mouth, metallic and bitter. Fraser didn't like remembering about how close they'd been to destroying their partnership. Not to mention getting themselves killed.

He wanted to forget the way it had felt when Ray's fist had connected with his jaw. He remembered wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth and walking away, feeling betrayed by his own heart.

Sometimes in the depths of his nightmares, Fraser dreamed of not finding Ray in time, dreamed of blue lips and a cold, lifeless body held tight in his arms. He'd always wake with a choked cry locked behind his lips, the taste of lake water bitter in his mouth and tears in his eyes.

If Ray dreamed of the Henry Allen and drowning, he never mentioned it to Fraser.

Next to him, Ray snuffled and leaned harder against Fraser.

"We'll figure something out, Ray, I promise."

Ray snorted loudly to let Fraser know what he thought about Fraser's promises.

"There's no need to be rude about it. Plus, we haven't even discussed your propensity for throwing yourself in front of me when things are aimed my way."

If he'd been smarter about it, he would have extracted a similar promise from Ray in the emergency room, a sort of quid pro quo. Fraser would wait for backup, Ray would stop throwing himself recklessly in the way of dangerous things. He filed that thought away for future emergency room visits.

"Though I will admit that you didn't break a promise."

Ray sneezed and snuggled closer.

In some ways, Fraser preferred Ray in his honey badger shape. He was much more forgiving than Ray-in-human-form ever was. Ray-the-human held grudges for a long, long time. Long past when any sane human would have accepted the beer as an apology and let go of their anger.

Fraser sighed and tried to relax. There was plenty of time, once Ray was returned to his human form, to worry about broken promises and resentment.

* * *

They returned to the apartment for a nap and lunch.

Dief barked.

“No, Dief, no Twinkies,” Fraser said, holding firm to his promise to himself to not aid and abet Dief's plan for nutritional ruin.

Dief had no interest in half-wolf-kibble nor naps, so he parted ways with them outside the apartment.

Ray climbed up on the couch with Fraser, curling up next to his belly and snuggling. "Things will look better after a nap," Fraser whispered, and Ray chittered softly in agreement.

Things did look significantly better after a nap.

Fraser fed Ray some of the grasshoppers he bought at a pet shop, watching him crunch happily, whiskers twitching. Fraser was still searching for a source of either lizards or large grubs, but wasn't having a lot of luck. He put a piece of honeycomb on a plate for Ray while he went to make his own lunch, which he brought over to the couch so he could keep Ray company as they watched a show about bears.

Now it was a simply a matter of waiting for Eric to show up and figure out how to restore Ray to his normal form.

* * *

Hours later, Eric finally showed up accompanied by Agents Parker and Longabaugh. Fraser took them into the living room where Ray was still comfortably ensconced in his blanket nest.

"Oh, dear."

That made Fraser's stomach clench, because Eric wasn't an 'oh, dear' kind of person.

"Mountie, what kind of trick are you playing here?"

Fraser was offended. "Me? I haven't done anything. It was your nephews who did this."

Eric shook his head. "There's no way they did this, Fraser. This is something only a fully trained shaman with many years of life experience could even conceive of doing and even then, they would most likely _not_ succeed. Transformations are...tricky."

Parker snorted and exchanged a look with Longabaugh. “Tricky, you say?” he muttered under his breath. “Maybe the word you're actually looking for is 'impossible.'”

Fraser shook his head and ignored Parker's comments.. "That might be the case, Eric, but I assure you that it was your nephews."

"Hmmm." Eric pushed his hair back over his shoulder and touched Ray's back. Again, Ray was outlined in a faint blue glow that quickly faded. "The transformation is a well crafted one, Fraser. Extremely well crafted. I find it hard to believe that the boys did this, but even if they did I'm not sure they can undo it."

"Damn it." Fraser looked down at Ray, worried. "That is what both the Voudon houngan and the African shaman said. The spell is tightly woven into Ray's spirit to the point where they think Ray will have to be the one to unravel the spell."

Eric nodded. "That sounds about right."

Fraser was dubious. "The problem is that Ray has never shown an aptitude for...spells before. In fact, he'd always shown a firm disbelief and disdain for even the idea of magical occurrences."

"Belief is not always a requirement, Fraser. It helps, but isn't required," Eric said.

"Especially," Longabaugh pointed out, "when you've actually been transformed into an animal. Surely Detective Kowalski can't argue about the theoretical existence of magic when he's a...a...a whatever he is."

"Honey badger. _Mellivora capensis_ ," Parker supplied helpfully.

"Thank you." Longabaugh glared at his partner.

Fraser nodded thoughtfully. Longabaugh had a very valid point. Maybe it would help if he had a little discussion with Ray about the various magical traditions from around the world. He could even go over some of the Polish magical folklore, like crossroads and fire flowers and candle wax divination. "Indeed, it's certainly worth a try." As Gerome Laferette had said, what did they have to lose?

Eric looked uncertain. "I'll bring the boys over in a while. You might try to get Ray to nap a little; working with magics tends to require a lot of energy."

"We napped earlier," Fraser said, feeling like the worst kind of layabout and blushing as Eric, Parker and Longabaugh all looked at him questioningly. "Before lunch. It seemed prudent. But I will see if I can get him to eat something more substantial than crickets."

Fraser ushered everyone out of the apartment, thanking them profusely. He leaned against the door after they were all gone, resting his pounding head against the cool wood.

After a while, when he managed to regain his composure, he joined Ray on the couch.

"I know you've never been a big fan of unexplained occurrences, in spite of your rather _laissez les bons temps rouler_ life-philosophy, but maybe it's time for you to open your mind up to the endless possibilities that exist in the world. Modern science can't explain everything and sometimes you just have to accept the fact that not everything will be explainable." He rubbed Ray's belly, enjoying the strange almost-purr that he was making. "As the White Queen said, 'Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.'"

Opening one eye, Ray looked at him dubiously.

"Poland has a rich history of folk magic; just look at _Baba Jaga_ or the Magic Belt of Poland. In Polish folk magic, curses are called 'spoiling'. Many other cultures have a tradition of magic, and it seems foolish to dismiss something out of hand just because you don't like the label. 'Magic' can mean so many different things to so many different people..."

Ray sneezed and pawed at Fraser's sleeve.

"I guess I am lecturing. It's a fascinating subject that I'd like to discuss further with Gerome Laferette or David Klein." Fraser cleared his throat noisily. "Though what we really ought—"

"So, the Yank's still not going to make a good hat."

Fraser and Ray both jumped at Robert Fraser's sudden appearance. "Dad! I thought I asked you not to show up unannounced like that."

Robert looked confused. "How should I announce myself? I'm a ghost, for Heaven's sake. It's not like I can knock on the—"

"Yes, exactly!" Fraser grasped at the straw. He walked to the door and opened it, gesturing for Robert to exit the apartment. "Yes, if you would be so kind as to _knock_ before...visiting." He waited until Robert was outside the apartment before shutting the door.

"Benton? Benton, I'm incorporeal. I can't knock. Well, I _can_ , it's just that I'm not making physical contact with the door. Benton? Benton? Where did that boy get off to...?"

Robert's voice faded and Fraser breathed a sigh of relief. Ray was watching from the back of the couch and Fraser was almost sure there was a look of badgerly disapproval on his whiskered face.

"What?"

Ray grumbled and Fraser rubbed hard at his eyebrow.

"My father is a stubborn, know-it-all busybody who couldn't be bothered with his family while he was alive and now that he's dead, he wants to make up for lost time. He comes over to have hearty father-and-son talks at four in the morning while I'm trying sleep and I'm not going to mention the night he decided to tell me about—" Fraser made finger quotes in the air, "—the birds and the bees."

Ray shuddered.

“Exactly,” Fraser said. "Can we talk about this some other time?"

Ray snorted.

"What I've been trying to say is that you need to keep your mind open to the possibilities, Ray. Just because John and James are the ones that transformed you, that doesn't mean they have to be the ones to untransform you. If Mr. Laffrette and Mr. Klein and Eric are right, _you_ will have a major part to play in returning yourself to human form."

Ray snarled softly.

"I know," Fraser said, just as softly. "But that seems to be the nature of this particular spell." And because Fraser was a terrible person, he couldn't help trying to have the last word. "Maybe you should remember this the next time you're tempted to place yourself between me and danger."

Ray growled something ill-tempered that Fraser was sure was definitely not fit for polite company.

* * *

Eric and the boys showed up a few hours later. Eric formally introduced them to Fraser, who managed to bite back all the things he wanted to say. Things that sounded suspiciously like the useless little lectures Bob Fraser would give.

He'd promised himself years ago that he would be different from his father. Some days, he succeeded at that. Other days, not so much.

They trooped into the apartment and Eric settled the boys in the living room before going around closing the curtains and turning off all the lights. Ray's apartment went from brightly lit and open to dark, dim and claustrophobic in a matter of minutes.

"Parker and Longabaugh?" Fraser asked. He'd expected them to at least watch the proceedings.

Eric shrugged. "They wanted to stay out of the way, so they're down in the car, waiting. Neither of them thinks this is going to work."

"Ah."

And they were right. After fifteen minutes of soft, rhythmic chanting and mumbling in the darkened apartment, Ray stiff and tense between the boys, they gave up.

James, the elder of the brothers, shook his head. "It's just not working. The outer shell of the spell is too smooth; we can't get a grip on it. It's like trying to grab water."

"We really didn't think it was going to work," John added. "The original spell, I mean. It was something we'd been toying with and then when we were running, it was something that we tried out of desperation."

Fraser just watched Ray trundle back to the couch and his blanket nest. Fraser was at a loss; he'd been hoping that Eric would be able to solve this particularly thorny issue, and if not Eric, then the perpetrators of Ray's transformation. Someone should be able to put Ray back to rights, someone other than poor Ray himself. Someone with opposable thumbs.

"I don't know what to do next," he mumbled, half to himself. "I don't know how to fix this." He always had a Plan B, a workable solution, something. With this situation, he hadn't managed to come up with a backup plan. It made him feel useless and helpless, and he wasn't comfortable with that.

Eric gripped his shoulder comfortingly. "Easy, Ben. We'll figure something out." He gestured to the boys. "They have a plane back to Vancouver to catch in the morning. Once they are safely on the plane, we'll figure out how to deal with Ray's...issue." He squeezed the tense muscles under his hand. "I promise. We'll find a way to get Ray back to normal."

Fraser just nodded dully as Eric and the boys took their leave, waving away the youngsters' babbled but heartfelt apologies. He couldn't think about anything other than getting Ray back to his usual, boisterous self.

His head pounded; a headache had bloomed behind his eyes because of his worry, persistent and painful. He took off his boots and stretched out on the couch, missing Ray's voice and vibrant presence intensely.

Ray in his honey badger form was still Ray, but a very different Ray, in spite of his many Ray-like characteristics. Ray-as-badger was very bold and curious, sometimes too bold and curious for his own good. Several times Fraser had to keep Ray from exploring sewer entrances and crawl spaces. Fraser wasn't worried about predators, of course. At this point, Fraser had run across enough evidence of the ferocity of honey badgers that he wasn't really worried about lions, tigers or bears eating Ray.

Honey badgers could easily get hurt by wires and broken glass and other man-made hazards, though, so Fraser had made an effort to keep Ray out of dangerous places. Ray was too precious, in either of his forms, for Fraser to even contemplate losing him.

Not that he really had Ray right now.

"This is all my fault." There. He admitted it out loud. "If I weren't such a stubborn idiot, this would never have happened."

Fraser heard a disdainful snort and Ray climbed up and rested on Fraser's chest like a cat, staring down at him from his vantage point. He was just heavy enough to be uncomfortable.

"What are we going to do now, Ray?" Fraser asked, petting him.

Ray snuffled and rested his paw on top of Fraser's chest, right where his heart was. He patted the spot awkwardly.

"My chest?" Fraser was confused. "My heart? Heart attack? Heart burn? The Heart River in North Dakota? The Queen of Hearts?" Sometimes Ray could be deliberately vague. He rolled his eyes. "Ann and Nancy Wilson?"

Ray growled and dug his claws in a little.

"Oh. I love you, too."

Grumbling loudly, Ray climbed off of the couch and stood in the middle of the living room. Fraser watched curiously as Ray walked in a tight circle three times and then sat upright on his haunches, growling to himself. He shook his head, whiskers agitated, his growls getting louder.

Fraser sat up on the couch, concerned and was taken aback when Ray's badger body suddenly _flowed_ upward, blurring from fur to flesh and a much more familiar shape. A beloved and sorely missed shape.

"Ray? Ray!"

"Hey, Benton," Ray said, crouching on the floor, grinning madly. He was wearing the clothes that Fraser had last seen him in—black tee shirt, well-worn jeans, head-kicking boots. "Miss me?"

Ben scrambled off the couch and half-tackled Ray, pushing him on onto the wood floor and pressing himself against Ray's lean form.

"I guess that's a yes?" Ray looked up at Fraser, still grinning from ear to ear.

"Shut up, Ray."

* * *

"That was one of my favorite shirts," Ray mourned, seeing the torn fabric caught in the antenna above the television.

"I'm sorry." Ben nuzzled at Ray's neck, drinking in the familiar and comforting scent of sweat and sex and Ray. "I couldn't help myself. I missed you so much—"

"I missed you, too, Ben." He wrapped his arms around Ben's shoulders and squeezed him close. "You were so close, but so far away. And snuggling you when I was a badger wasn't the same." He brightened. "Though the naps were nice."

Ben laughed, feeling a little giddy with happiness. He rested his head on Ray's bony shoulder, in that little spot that seemed to fit him perfectly. "I'm so glad you're back," he whispered fiercely.

"Ben," Ray sighed. "You know this whole thing could have been avoided if you'd just waited..." He trailed off. It was an old, old argument between them; it was the one disagreement they had with any regularity. "I'm tired of fighting about this, Ben. I'm tired of worrying about you doing dangerous things, risking your life unnecessarily."

Ray ran a hand down Ben's sweat-damp back. "I'm really tired of you not being totally in this relationship, of not committing yourself to it. You're half-in-half-out and I need you to...choose." He sighed. "If you're going to break my heart, I want you to do it now."

Fraser made a small sound of protest.

"Time to go all-in, Ben. You've got the key to my apartment, you've got the key to my heart. You just need to pack up your shit and move in. Or not."

Ben had made a promise to himself while Ray had been...indisposed. He'd promised that he'd try to make things right between them. He could feel his shoulder muscles tightening up as he struggled to explain to Ray. "I'm—I'm terrified."

Ray nodded in understanding, rubbing his face against Ben's hair, but remained silent, letting Ben find the words that he needed.

Ben wasn't like Ray, wasn't a poet on the inside and it was a rather painful struggle to line the words up in the right order. "With Victoria—with Victoria I loved her so much I would have done anything for her. _Anything_ , Ray." He paused. Ray had read the file in preparation for taking Vecchio's place but Fraser wondered if Ray had managed to read between the lines. "I was leaving with her."

"I know."

Two simple words. Ben tilted his head as he replayed the phrase in his head, listening to the intonation that Ray had used, the nuances. Ben could detect no censure, no judgment, no surprise. Just...understanding.

Ray, who understood what it was like to love so passionately that you gave up part of yourself. Ray had loved Stella like that for years, had married her and had made a life with her. Fraser had always wondered what it was that Ray had given up to be with Stella. What parts of himself had he buried, what sharp edges had he filed down to keep her?

Fraser tried to imagine Ray before Stella; gangling, scrawny, and awkward, big glasses and an open heart. It was Stella who taught Ray to love fearlessly; it was Stella who taught Ray to be afraid of loving too much.

In the end, Ray would always love Stella a little, even as he welcomed Ben into his heart. Fraser couldn't begrudge her that, since she'd help shape Ray into the fine man he was today: a prickly Chicago cop who wore his heart on his sleeve.

His Ray, who understood that Fraser had been leaving behind everything he was to be with someone he thought he loved.

"Loving that much scares me. It's _too_ much."

There was a long pause. "Yeah, I get that, Fraser. I do." Ray threaded his fingers through Ben's hair, scratching gently at his scalp. "You were going to leave with Victoria, I get that. But I can guarantee you wouldn't have stayed with her. She was broken on the inside and no matter how much you wanted to fix her, you wouldn't have been able to." Ray tugged slightly on Ben's hair. "It would have been a struggle and you would have never forgiven yourself for it, but you would have turned yourselves in before too long on the run."

Ben considered that, thought about how _much_ he'd felt for Victoria, how angry he'd been at Ray Vecchio for keeping him from going with her. And he remembered the scene in Jolly's car; the blood and brain splatter, the single gunshot at very close range. "She was a murderer. A cold-blooded murderer, who probably would have killed anyone who stood in her way."

"Yeah, she was, Ben. And she did. She wouldn't have hesitated to kill you."

"I loved her."

"I know."

Ben nodded to himself. "I love you."

Ray chuckled. "But I'm not a murderer."

"True." Ben pondered the implications of that for a moment. "And you're not going to shoot me or my dog, either."

"Uh, no." A long silence. "Half-wolf."

Ben snorted. "He has you so well trained." He thought about bringing up the Twinkies, but refrained. "I—I can't promise not to risk my life or yours, but I _can_ try make more of an effort to do so on a less frequent basis."

"We're police officers, Ben. Sometimes we have to risk our lives; it's the nature of the job. But I want you to think _before_ you go charging into a situation and I want you to wait for backup when backup is on its way. I need you to do that, Ben."

It was going to be hard. Ben was accustomed to _not_ thinking before jumping into a dangerous situation. Thoughtless. He didn't want to be thoughtless anymore.

"Besides, if you get killed, I'll never forgive you."

Ben twisted a little to look at Ray's face. Something about Ray's expression made his heart clench and took his breath away. "All right, Ray. I'll try."

"That's all I ask. We'll figure it out in the end." He yawned. "And speaking of getting killed, when the hell were you going to tell me about your father? You didn't think that was something that maybe I should know about?"

"Uh, my father is...complicated."

"You mean dead."

"That, too."

Laughing, Ray dropped a kiss on Ben's head and shifted a bit under Ben's weight. "Ow. Bed. This is fucking uncomfortable and I'm too old to be making out like a teenager on the damn floor. My back is going to be killing me tomorrow."

Ben sat up and looked down at Ray, hair sweat-spiked and more experimental than normal. "Too old? I beg to disagree." He got to his feet and pulled Ray up, holding onto his hand. "Let me show you."

Ray grinned and squeezed Ben's hand. "Okay."

* * *

After a short nap and another round of hot, sweaty sex, Ben finally got around to asking Ray what it had been like as a honey badger.

"Blurry."

"Blurry?" That was not what Ben had expected Ray to say, at all.

"Yeah. I guess honey badgers don't have very good vision and with mine being pretty bad, too, the world was pretty blurry. I spent some time raising my hackles and growling at the footstool because I thought it was another animal." Ray shook his head. "No wonder honey badgers have such a fierce reputation."

"Ah."

"And my hearing was okay, but my sense of smell was _amazing_. Food smelled so _good_ , even Dief's kibble smelled wonderful, even though it tasted like crap. The crickets were pretty tasty, though. And I could smell it when you were upset. It was weird, smelling what people were feeling."

"Pheromones, Ray."

He nodded. "Yeah. And the world is a much different place from a honey badger's point of view. Bigger. Louder. Scarier. “Sometimes my instincts would take over and I'd do things that I hadn't planned on doing. The whole belly rubbing thing—I couldn't seem to help that. Someone would pet me and suddenly I'd be on my back, waiting to have my belly scratched. And when some one did, it was like—” Ray took a deep breath. “It was like the most amazing feeling, like having my back rubbed and my scalp scratched and being hugged all at the same time. It felt so _good_.”

Ray sighed a little. “The hunting instincts were kind of...disturbing, though. I ended up chasing some bugs around the apartment; I couldn't seem to help myself. They would skitter across the floor and I'd be on my feet after them, and then once I caught them, I'd eat them.” He grimaced. “The spiders were okay, but I didn't like some of the other bugs.” He shuddered. “I guess I should be glad there aren't any mice in the apartment. Ew.”

Ray shifted a little, tracing designs on Ben's arm with a finger. “I kept wanting to dig a burrow; if I'd been able to find a spot with some dirt, I totally would have dug the best honey badger burrow in Chicago.” He grinned. “Not sure what good it would have done, but there you have it.”

“Did you miss being human? Or were you too busy being a honey badger?” Fraser was curious about Ray's human thoughts while he had been in his badger form.

Ray remembered how much easier it was to be a honey badger. Life was so much simpler—he didn't have to wonder where his next meal was coming from, didn't have to worry about paying bills, didn't have to try to figure out what was going on in Fraser's head.

It had been like taking a vacation from his life and while Ray was happy to be human again, it had been kind nice just to forget everything for a while, to live in the moment.

“At first, I was mostly confused. But once I realized what had happened and got over the shock of being a honey badger, I just kinda just went with the flow. There wasn't anything I could really do and when I got worried, I was easily distracted by a nap or Dief or food. It wasn't until the boys admitted that they couldn't turn me back into a human that I started to get upset.” Ray shrugged, a loose-limbed movement.

Ben laced their fingers together, silently offering reassurance if Ray needed it.

Ray's voice took on a strange, dreamy quality. "The best part about being a honey badger, though. The best part..." he trailed off, visibly searching for the words. "There was this weird space, halfway between my human brain and my animal brain...it was white. It was quiet and empty and restful and for the first time in a long time, I could be _still_." He squeezed Ben's fingers. "I could be still and it didn't hurt; I wasn't vibrating with this need to _move_ and it was nice for a change."

"Ah." They lay there for a while and Ben could feel how Ray's body wasn't actually _still_ ; the minute twitches and shifts in position; the scratching and the finger-combing of his hair, little tics and touches from Ray's overstimulated nervous system. He could only imagine what a difference that made. "And undoing the spell?"

"Unraveling is a more accurate description, just like everyone said. Once I found the tail end of the string, I pulled on it and the whole thing just fell apart. It just took me a couple of days to find the damn string." Ray laughed. "I thought it was going to be like the horror movies, you know, growling and screaming and your bones twisting back into human shape, blood and slime everywhere."

Ben could hear the faintest tinge of wistfulness in Ray's voice and couldn't help but smile. "You would have preferred that?"

"No. Well, maybe. It would have been more badass than what happened."

"Rather anti-climactic, I suppose." He lifted Ray's hand and kissed the bony knuckles. "I'm not sure I would have enjoyed seeing you go through a more movie-like physical transformation. And it probably would have hurt."

Ray shrugged. "Probably. But let me see—" He sat up and suddenly his naked body flowed into the familiar honey badger shape. Ray chittered excitedly before sliding back into human form. "Cool!"

"Yes, because being a honey badger in Chicago is _such_ a useful skill," he said, deadpan.

"Stop raining on my parade, Ben," he laughed. "You're just jealous because you can't turn into your totem animal."

"Hmmm. Though turning into a polar bear would _also_ not be a useful skill to have in Chicago. Most likely I'd get shot in the rump with a tranquilizer dart and end up at the Lincoln Park Zoo, in their Arctic exhibit." He thought about it for a moment. "Though they do have an excellent staff and Jing-Wei makes sure that all the animals have plenty of things to keep them occupied."

Ray's voice turned serious. "You wouldn't survive being in a cage, Ben. Human or animal."

"No, I suppose you're right." The idea made his skin crawl. "It's a good thing that Ray shot me, then."

"Well, I'm glad he was a lousy shot." Ray's hand slid down Ben's back to rest against the scar. "Or had bad aim. Or both."

Ben sighed.

Ray growled a little. "Give me a break, Ben. The guy just stole my wi— ex-wife and kidnapped her to Florida. I think I'm entitled to be a little pissed at him."

"But Ray," Ben protested. "You got me in trade."

Ray looked stunned for a moment, before his rich laugh echoed through the apartment. "Hey, so I did. And man, I got the better end of the deal for sure." He kissed Ben firmly. "Vecchio can keep Stella. I got everything I want right here."

-fin-

**Author's Note:**

> First, I have to thank Luzula for all her hard work in betaing this beast. As she did it at a time when it was difficult for her to use a keyboard, I appreciate it even more. She has always been the best at corralling my strange tense shifts, my herd of extra commas and my insistence on including science in any way I can. Thanks a million, Luzula!
> 
> Many, many thanks to Spuffyduds, Lucifuge5, Andeincascade, J_S_Cavalcante, my entire flist/dwcircle and all the other Big Bangers out there, who kept me going when the tough gave up. Especially to Lucifuge, who was the main reason this challenge even happened this year, and who wanted Honey Badger so bad she dragged me kicking and screaming across the finish line.
> 
> This story has a weird genesis. I was researching honey bees for my C6D Midsummer 2010 story and ran across a reference to Honey Badgers, which I had never heard of. The wikipedia article mentioned [Kleinmann the Reckless Honey Badger](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z0tycmec1fw), who I immediately decided was Ray in animal form. It went downhill from there, with me sending parts of this story written out as a plot outline to Spuffyduds and Lucifuge and probably others I've forgotten. I made JS and Luce and whoever else came near watch endless videos about honey badgers. I bought a book about a woman who lived in Africa and raised a honey badger. Stoffel is a honey badger who lives at the [Moholoholo Wildlife Rehabilitation Centre](http://moholoholo.co.za/index.asp?pgid=1) in South Africa, who loves to [play](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EALsDQL_yvU) and [escape](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UC0OJj3-YOI) from his enclosure.
> 
> It turns out I have a passion for honey badgers. Who knew?

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Audio Trailer for 'Sweet As Honey' by akamine_chan](https://archiveofourown.org/works/235063) by [podfic_lover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/podfic_lover/pseuds/podfic_lover)
  * [Cover Art for 'Sweet As Honey' by akamine_chan](https://archiveofourown.org/works/234881) by [podfic_lover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/podfic_lover/pseuds/podfic_lover)




End file.
